


Fall

by AkaiShinda (Ayleid)



Series: Leaves [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Cardverse, Depression, F/M, Historical Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayleid/pseuds/AkaiShinda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>/Prequel to Forever King and Queen./ The autumn brings new people in the secluded settlement down in the Southern regions of Spades. The Caller and the ambitious soldier find a way to understand both worlds. Spirits, unexpected acts follow their ways. / Another drabble collection but kept in chronological order. This happens before ForeverKingandQueen, before the King was marked and before the Queen knew he would actually have a place in this world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feather-leather](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Feather-leather).



> To Feather-Leather on tumblr. I hope you'll like where this goes. More chapters on the way!

It was another day reaching to its end. Yet another without any change. Why would it ever change in any ways? The thoughts just began their usual chanting, their sly voices snapping or simply uttering witty half-truths into his hear and by this point of the day he couldn’t decide which of them was only his own mind, turning against his own self. Altogether, it wouldn’t have mattered anyways. He was standing on the edge again, listening and not paying attention at the same time, gaze unfocused still keeping a somewhat recognizable expression on his face as a proof he’s not entirely lost in his own mental vortex.

The steaming cup and the image of the wooden table were barely registered by his pupils anymore. It just kept going inside, the images, the voices from the back of his skull, he couldn’t find their root, it was so much deeply sourced in his mind that he concretely gripped himself out of the suffocating depth and looked around with hazy, tight irises. No one was around. _Why would someone be?_

No, this wasn’t going to last long. He knew it, the tightness in his throat wouldn’t ease even if he went to sleep or if would reach for the bottle of rum. Who was he fooling; getting drunk wouldn’t make any sense. Being alone, could he even be more pathetic? But that was it. No one would judge him for it. No one was around to call him miserable, only himself. That’s what his own mind was repeating as well. No one would care if he would just go missing in the forest or just wouldn’t turn up for breakfast one day. Everyone would go on with their routines and guess what, _Arthur darling,_ the prince or princess or whatever fairy-godmother didn’t seem to do any particular efforts in showing up before it was too late. _If_ it wasn’t too late already. He just wanted an escape.

He was alone. He’d been like this for quite a good while, months, years passing by and he just kept grasping on his ‘plan’, _he called living a hermit’s life a ‘plan’ in order to avoid ‘unwanted’, the pathetic wimp_ , and yes he was doing well... if we call staying alive every day, well. He wasn’t hurting himself anymore, wasn’t taking the poisonous mushrooms or roots anymore and just lived from day to day only by holding on and keeping the routine. The thought of the forest calmed him normally but right now the mere image of it just horrified his bare, nearly panicking mind. The forest would mean even stronger fears, especially if he would wander out in the night. The animals needed him to keep going, one more day, one more breakfast to force down his throat, one more walk, one more tiny creature to heal... he kept lying to himself that his occupation, healing forest animals and taking the poisonous roots and mushrooms out of the lambs way... would actually matter to someone. One more night to survive among the pelts, his freezing fingers trembling and crawling his own palm as distraction, from the pure fact of being alone. No one would hear him and even if they would hear his crying, they’d call him pathetic. That’s all, his entire existence.

Squeezing his eyes shut, the forced his throat to swallow and take a sharp breath through his dry lips. Dehydrating himself wasn’t going to get him anywhere, only causing headache and weakness in his muscles... he could barely hold Mint on his right forearm anymore and the worst is that the falcon didn’t want to leave him alone anymore. Damned animal, it sensed it. Arthur could see in the bird’s eye that it _knew_ what was going on.

He turned his head on the right but of course, no one was there to touch or talk to. No one will ever be. He is not meant to have friends after all... he was tired of waiting. Waiting for what, a companion, someone who could actually _talk_ in a human language and not chirping or biting into his skin as a demand for attention... he wanted a human friend, a human, a man, a woman, who cared, _someone_...

He wanted to shout, crawl under his own skin and just squeeze his own self so hard it actually brought a painful groan out of his lungs. What a... useless, repulsive weakling... who would ever want to befriend such a hell-hated nobody...

His only companions were forest animals, maybe the Elder was right and he wasn’t meant to be born here anyways... he had no place and he couldn’t find it anywhere; not among humans. Ill-bred nothing, he was. A mishap of his parents, bleeding error of Nature... he hissed as his fingernail drew blood on his own shoulder. He should just do it. No one would call his name ever again anyways. No one would come after him or look for him. These newcomers had no idea who he was, everyone was so obsessed with them it made Arthur sick to the guts. Not even that bright eyed youngster among them could carry the possible change. He was a soldier, comes and goes.

It didn’t matter.

One more night. Just this one more. He sighed. _Oh, please_.

Peter the hedgehog needed his tiny leg to be fixed. Then, no more animals to take back with him. The ones in the shed were weak or heavy to be carried away yet... he had to build another shed somewhere else. This thought already gave a weak root to grasp onto.

He’ll eventually stop carrying them home, it would go unnoticed of course and just as easily when he’d healed everyone , he’d just be gone with them. Missing? No one would notice his absence from the village. He would only care about hiding and living on such a place where his presence wouldn’t lure any humans there. The cave up on the other side of the mountain. He’d carry a pelt along, some personal belongings there before settling there. He’s heard about Callers quitting the company of humans--

This, finally calmed his raging mind. The buzz in the back of his skull quieted as well. Quitting... he hummed and repeated the verb in the voice of his soul. Quitting. Escaping from this turmoil.

Yes. A few things were only left to do. Then, he’d go away, to _rest._ Finally.

Such a relief. He actually felt the goose bumps growing on his arms and with a sigh he released all the tension he had in this tight shoulders and lungs. Oh, it will end. Finally. No more crying, no more regret and shame of being born and alive. At last, it was clear.

From now on... he counted the days fast judging from Peter, the hedgehog’s state... one and a half weeks. No distractions, only preparations. No matter what.

Well... he had saved many creatures from death already. Who would have thought, so ironic?

He said it out. His own _death_ was waiting for him. And this time... _this time_ he didn’t want to back down anymore. There is no such thing as death, only change*. 


	2. Meet the Warrior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the actual first chapter of the story. Read along with the Prologue (Arthur's narration).

_We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them._

Under the clear azure sky, there was a land with four kingdoms which functioned well in a relatively peaceful way. The economic balance had been long established and carefully maintained; in the last two centuries not a single soldier’s blood was shed on the fields. The mercenaries earned their money by protecting the borders of the four united kingdoms from vandals and outer threats.

It had long been known that the kingdoms weren’t lead by dynasties or by elected rulers but by ones who’d been worthy and chosen by a mysterious force no one dared to name so far. Scientists and alchemists had researched and experimented with this force but none of them could compose any sufficient explanation for the phenomenon that marked two, and only two persons on the day of the royal couple’s death. The custom was simple after that. The ones who were marked were obliged to appear at the nearest town’s court and what happened after was all depending on the palace.

. . .

Soldiers were never favoured by politics. They were numbers and lives in one definition and whoever told otherwise was soon ridiculed for believing such sentiments. Mercenaries were on the same page; keeping their words and having good equipment defined their worth. The ones with reputation were already sullen and stuck in one mindset that all youngsters intended to avoid nevertheless ended up in the same ways. Horses, blacksmiths and commanders were their best friends; everyone else could be an enemy the next day, depending on who offered better loot or treasure after the battles. The roles switched, friendships and alliances were broken easily at the sounds of names, territories and the flashes of gold and even though there were ones who pursued the ideas of unbreakable bonds, they soon had to realize that the world does not follow the wishes of simple warriors.

Given his young age and notorious career, Alfred Jones was one of these sentimental mercenaries who insisted on using the dice of his fate to keep an eye on his friends. Living a life of a warrior in the era of peace, the lad wandered with his companions around the four kingdoms and led a carefree life that provided all goods he ever wanted. Food, shelter and women, he got all these wherever he went thanks to his handsome, attractive features and vivid blue eyes that never failed to catch the breath of young ladies. His reputation was earned by hard work, scars providing his proof along with the hundreds of people across the kingdoms who greeted him with open arms every time they met.

The group of soldiers he travelled with consisted of no more than a handful of people but those ones were the trainers and mentors of this particular young man when it came to fights, principles and general phenomena he would ever meet in his life. Since his teenage years, Alfred has learned all he needed by the iron grip of these men and God bless them, he never stopped respecting them. If it wasn’t the advice of the White Crow, he’d have just gambled all his payments and would have regretted doing it in the next morning upon seeing the new or repaired pieces of armours of his friends. Having ‘old foxes’ around always meant tricks and suggestions from them however with his often naive mind Alfred walked into pranks more than often.

Politics... again, it wasn’t his jar of beer. Never. He always left this decision to his more experienced companions who knew by names all the trustworthy and reliable lords the ones who kept their word in the profession. In that era however the new lords began to have a trend of hiring the mercenaries to protect the countryside people in the fall, stationing the warriors in forts and handling them as normal soldiers who were meant to defend the families that worked on harvests and in the forests. Alfred had a slight clue that the ever—so-highly-praised peace was beginning to tremble among the kingdoms and delinquents without particular aims to live their lives for, began to organize groups.

No matter what, Alfred Jones had no intention of moving to the countryside and _settle down_ for the fall and winter, leaving Llamrei in a dirty shed with other dirty horses and feed his giant mount with the whatever-kind-of hay he would get in portions... not to mention his armour, his swords and his war-blade which required weekly care from trained and experienced smiths. Frowning at the mere thought, the young warrior scratched the nape of his neck and drank up another jar of beer.

He didn’t want that life. He wanted to wander and discover the Kingdom of Spades, ride Llamrei with his dashing glory (because whoever says that a giant black warhorse with its own custom-made equipment is a casual sight lies), hunt the disturbers of peace and re-establish the harmony wherever he went. Even if this meant, he’d have to leave his beloved company behind. Just the mere thought of riding his horse with a blade in one hand pulled a knowing smile on his lips, dark-blond stubble itching upon it. He made faces instead of reaching to scratch it with his hand.

...

 

He’d earned all his possessions in duels, battles and by hard work. He was not going to waste his time in a filthy village, he was persuaded by his own fury yet he was following his friends to their destination but remained uncharacteristically silent for days and kept staying in the back of the trail with Llamrei who was very much used to being in the lead. The mount often shook its head and grunted in frustration just because his master refused to give up his childish sulking. The landscape began to change and the wonderfully drawn mountains with creeks and lakes among them were left behind their backs only to see flatter hills and a continuous, enormous forest that embraced the Western side of the kingdom. Mostly those settled here who were tired of the East with the capital city’s influence and the constant buzz of merchants on the roads. This was the region that was left untouched and remained in the hands of aristocrats who themselves lead smaller lives in order to avoid attention. The forests gave shelter for families which either lived separately from the community (hunters, woodsmen) or in fortresses, in his mind Alfred called these settlements colonies.

His heart sank deep in his stomach when they reached deeper and deeper in the forest and no matter how his companions tried to cheer him a little or encourage him to be a bit more faithful about their stay (it won’t be that _dull_ ), nothing proved to be enough to give him motivation than do anything else just turn around and gallop away from this God forsaken forest. Everywhere he looked he saw only trees, rocks that the previous Ice Age left behind ten thousand years ago, trees, squirrels, birds and again, trees. He wondered what the people actually ate here? Deer meat with tree pasta. Ha-ha.

And he’s going to eat that for half a year?

He made a disgusted face and even groaned at which Llamrei shot his ears back and grunted as well, pulling on Alfred’s hands and demanding a slight change. Of what? Anything.

“We are gonna die of boredom here, partner.”

“Look, he said something,” Alfred rolled his eyes at the mocking voice coming from the front. “Think about it as vacation, mate!”

Vacation... a hero like him will only suffer here. He can’t make money, can’t find entertainment, can’t earn any reputation in a land what consists of trees, rocks, animals and colonies of forest-loving people. By all means, this was not Alfred’s element and he decided to take the very first opportunity to escape from this place.

. . .

Just as expected.

The _colony_ consisted of wooden houses with wooden doors, wooden fences, wooden pavement, wooden barns and what could not have been made of wood was either made of it or Alfred really didn’t have the set of mind to check. Stone or wood. In the place of their brains, these people must have the same things as well. Rolling his eyes like the teenager he was, Alfred stayed on Llamrei and dismounted only when the leader of the camp appeared and insisted on shaking hands with all of them. Except the horses. He grunted and rolled his eyes in exhaustion as he recognised how his own self was going on his own nerves.

In that moment he was ready to pour his fury on the very next living creature that crossed his way. He didn’t care if he sounded rude or downright strange, he mentioned to the nobleman that he finds this settlement a little bit far from the nearest village. The Elder of the village sighed and nodded with the kindest smile Alfred had ever seen but that thought wasn’t enough to break the ice of resistance in the young man’s heart.  The leader agreed and reassured them that if there’d be a special need to be sated, he would do his best to help them even if it would mean sending one of his boys away to the town. Exhausted from the travel and from the sight of wood, Alfred sighed and repressed a biting comment, actually biting on his own tongue.

Their accommodation was secluded from the other houses. They had own rooms with beds, each of the rooms had own windows and for the older men they provided fireplace as well. The cottage was built in a traditional way, had a huge brick oven in the middle with couches around it and basically all rooms faced the brick oven. Their host informed them that if they kept the fire lit for days during the winter, the whole house was warm enough to be only in shirts inside. For these countryside people, Alfred found himself surprised how neat and clean everything was. The wood wasn’t rotting or peeling from the moisture and even though there was an apparent scent of earth and logs in the space, he felt a sting of regret for looking down on these people.

Even the horses had their own barn, clean and spacious for each animal. Llamrei had enough space to turn around and lie down even if the mare did that only when it was absolutely drained. They had own cupboards for their equipments and from the locals they got own tags to carve the names of their horses in. Alfred felt the sting growing with each hopeful, excited smile he met during the introduction. Kids, young lads and even grown-ups looked up at him with adoration and respect and even though he loved attention and sometimes acted like an immature brat in other occasions, this time he couldn’t make himself do anything to ease his embarrassment. Scratching the nape of his neck, smiling awkwardly and just swaying back and forth on his feet like a premature boy, the young hero was dragged through the colony by his friends and shown around.

Their armours, their horses, their vast knowledge of stories from all around the world made them divine in this community and by the time the dinner was served in the dining hall of the camp, Alfred felt more than exhausted by the amount of attention he had gotten. He was used to being looked at, but stared, gazed at, wasn’t. They were watching all of his moves, the young kids asked tremendous questions about his horse, his blade and his childhood and origins, the ladies looked at him with adoration and obvious desire. It was getting to a point when Alfred wanted to stand up and leave but again, he couldn’t do it.

Tired and glad for the momentary peace in which he sat and ate his dinner, the soft murmur had settled as a constant buzz in his ears and mind, leaving him to relax just by staring at one point somewhere mid-air when the gate of the hall opened. First, he didn’t even look. People come and gone, it was a dining hall after all... but the voice he heard, and the greeting the person received was the one that caught his attention in an instant, worn-out blue eyes suddenly refilled with curiosity and interest.

“Welcome back, Caller. Long day, as usual?”

Caller. The name pulled a frown on the young blonde’s forehead.

He’s never heard a name or profession like this before. It must have meant something, he knew in an instant. The person who entered didn’t look special to him: around his height, slimmer type of body, perhaps more agile and with a little hint of lithe smoothness, wore a long brown coat and underneath that he must had several things attached to his clothing since upon his steps, clicking and tinkling sounds followed. His heavy leather boots carried deep thumps on the wooden floor as he made his way and during that Alfred had the chance to observe him a little. The hood on the man’s head hid his face for a while and Alfred frowned, discomfort sprung in his heart with the notion that even during his meal the stranger kept the hood on. His hands were also hidden by gloves, he didn’t pull them forward yet and the cook placed the plate in front of him. He didn’t take it himself, it was placed for him and just then, elbows and shoulders flexed tight in some heavy feeling, discomfort for sure, the hunter or forester nodded and only murmured his greeting to the cook.

Unaware of his actions, Alfred narrowed his eyes and entwined his fingers in front of his lips, sinking deeper in his observation.

The guest was informed by the arrival of the mercenaries and all his answer was gentle humming which told that he had understood the message. Nothing else. He just kept eating, with his free hand he was massaging his own fingertips and Alfred could see the calmness gradually winning over the man’s stiffness.

That was when he decided to step in.

“I brought three rabbits only,” the voice of the stranger was definitely male still there was one ringing in it that pulled on a string in Alfred’s heart. Without realizing he bumped into a table and bit into his own lip to restrain a yelp; he didn’t want to disturb the obviously tired hunter. Hunter? He couldn’t decide. The boots were indeed muddy and made for moist and swampy terrain but the rest...

“Thank you for that,” the cook smiled at the stranger and seemed completely oblivious to the man’s quiet nature, just kept talking about the soldiers and for a reason Alfred was glad for that to happen. Uncharacteristically, he liked observing this unknown person. The cook continued, “from those rabbits though, only the dogs will be fed. Hopefully you’ll catch more soon. You still haven’t met the warriors yet, they’re one peculiar company.”

“Hopefully they won’t cause any more trouble with their peculiarity.”

“You shouldn’t worry about them. This time of the year is always busy for you.”

That brought a burdened sigh of the man’s lips, “indeed it is, though I only have just a short check left for today.”

“Checking what?”

The intrusion startled the stranger and he looked up with daggers shooting from his eyes; eyes that paralyzed the soldier and left him dumbstruck for a good moment. He missed the “welcome”, the laughter of the cook and only gazed, eyes sinking deep in the green eyes of the stranger. The power, dignity and strength in those green eyes stunned him to the moment. Finally, after finding the present again Alfred forced another awkward grin on his face and asked for a seat. The stranger grumbled but shifted and pulled his own plate over to make place for the newcomer’s but for around half a minute he continued eating in silence as if Alfred interrupted a deep and thorough conversation he just had.

The lad glanced up and down, from the cook to the rude man.

“So, are you living here too?” He asked, hoping that his voice didn’t betray his nervousness. His heart was pounding feverishly in his chest and he had to keep his hands away from the spot; he couldn’t calm his pulse by putting his palm there. He didn’t know why. His hands were sweating, as if he was about to propose or something.

The huntsman or forester shrugged, “sort of. Why are you asking?”

Indeed. The mercenary rolled his eyes and without thinking, gave a weak bump with his fist into the shoulder of the stranger to ease the tensions but that caused the exhausted man to frown and grunt, “like I care, leave me alone, please. I’m trying to have supper here.”

What a strange choice of words, the young warrior thought.

“Are you living in this settlement? Do you live here? What do you do?”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, kid.”

Well, that was uncalled for. The blue eyes solidified in an instant and with a confident breath Alfred spoke on a voice that he used just with other warriors, when his maturity or capabilities were doubted.

“Gotta be hard to maintain manners out there, ain’t it?”

The green eyes narrowed, filled with poisonous thunders that were meant to be kept inside. The air between them became almost burning hot from the tensions; both being ready to shot back a snarky or witty comment.

“From such a high horse it must have been disturbing to see someone’s not jumping to your request, eh? I’m trying to have supper here, in peace. Let me be.”

Alfred glanced up on the smiling cook and raised an eyebrow, “feels like I’m talking to a hedgehog. No sense whatsoever but already blowing spikes into my face. Nice first impressions, right?”

“He’s right, you should be a bit more open,” the cook shook his head slowly in a disapproving way which made the young forester cast his eyes down and secretly bit into his lower lip. “He’s from the group of warriors that came to defend us, please show a little hospitality here.”

At that, the man clicked with his tongue and rolled his eyes nevertheless reached with his gloved hand and Alfred took the offer immediately, to shake hands with him with a bright, friendly smile though the distant spark in the green eyes didn’t return his enthusiasm. The mood softened a little and the hooded man murmured something that was way too quiet to hear clearly under the buzz of the hall though Alfred did his best in listening.

“Welcome here. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay, thank you for coming to save us. It’s been a bugger for everyone.”

. . .

“Why do you keep following me?” He snapped and stepped violently towards the other even though it didn’t mean any threat to the man a few feet behind him. He just stood, chrome-steel equipment soaking in the rain, dark-blond mops of hair sticking to his head and his eyes suddenly hesitantly lit but he didn’t back down.

“Because I want to talk to you more!” Such sincerity, it nearly ripped Arthur’s heart but in the heat of the moment all he felt was fury and misunderstood anger. No, no more distractions. No one cared, why would this one make a difference?

“Why? I’m going to do my job only!” he snapped, hoping the other to leave him alone.

“And I wanna know what that is! I wanna go with you!”

“You’d be under my feet, why do you want to come so bad?”

“So you wouldn’t be alone?”

The beat of his heart, it was so harsh. He had to shut his eyes for a few seconds and even after that, gazing down in confusion only his gloved hands faced him without providing any reply. It was obvious to everyone still nobody acted against it. It had to be a stranger, a newcomer who didn’t even know his way around the village yet. How did he know him so well already? How did he see beyond?

“You’re lonely,” the words were lipsed right in front of him yet the hooded man couldn’t force any strength into his eyes nor glance up on the tall, well-built warrior. A warrior... of course.

They see the weaknesses of their enemies’ right on the spot. They analyse everyone, it’s in their profession... this young lad, though... he didn’t use it against him. At least, not yet.

“I’m lonely too.”

With that pretty, handsome face, with those vivid blue eyes, having this charismatic and endearing voice? Hardly was this stranger ever alone. The huntsman scoffed in obvious disbelief and disdain, “yes, surely you are.” He turned to walk away as fast as he could but the soldier caught his arm and in that instant his legs refused to go further. No matter how much he urged his body, his arm didn’t fight to get free nor his feet attempted to step away. Breath caught in his throat, the forester frowned and gave up the resistance only to glare back and do his usual routine.

“Just let me go on my way. It will be the best this way.”

“Hey, wait,” the young man cut him off and again, the captive found his voice trapped only to listen to this stranger his heart beat fast for. Not even clear with his own intentions and acting in the path his heart urged him into, Alfred cleared his throat. He had heard at least forty names that day and couldn’t memorize only five or ten but this particular man... he wanted to hear his name. He wanted to know how he was truly called, “I haven’t heard your name yet. Mine is Alfred. Alfred Jones.”

And in that moment, staring back in the hoping, friendly and brightly welcoming blue eyes, Arthur Kirkland was lost. His initial resistance slowly melting on the surface with a trembling breath escaping from his own lips, all the man’s troubled thoughts lifted when he saw the blue of spring, fresh wells of crystal clear water, the vast, endless skies and a hint of mystery, an unknown deep blue luminance he never saw before. This... this nobody, who just arrived that day and didn’t even know him... he gained a name in his mind. His heart pounded in his chest like one of a caged bird’s, unable to tear his gaze away from the captivating blue.

“Al... Alfred,” he mumbled, barely registering that the name actually left his lips. He caught Alfred’s eyes casting down at them and then back into his eyes. His heart was in flames.

It was his turn.

“My name is Arthur. Kirkland.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur,” he _smiled_. All that he had before on those lips were imitations. Grins, smirk, forced pull at the corners of his mouth, but this... this was his smile. Fond, endearing, sincere. It fit him.

“Nice, um.. yes,” he attempted a pull on his arm to have it free again but the warrior didn’t notice.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking again, but...,” he looked down in embarrassment for a second before retrieving his gaze, still not being aware of his intimidation, “what do you do here?”

“I’m a Caller.”

He earned another frank chuckle from his new acquaintance, having Alfred look down in shame and perplexity before letting their eyes meet again, “I’m sorry to confess but I have no clue what this can possibly mean,” and he laughed gently, without that masquerade he had back in the dining hall. He found his lack of knowledge funny and though Arthur didn’t mind his slightly dumb closeness he felt like a horse that is nudged by the other horse to get his attention.

He didn’t smile back at him, even if he felt the pleasant pull at the corners of his lips... but his eyes did shine in relief and Alfred didn’t miss that.

However, he couldn’t exactly explain his profession. He had to show it, and only by mentioning this to the young warrior, Alfred nodded in curiosity and naive excitement.

. . .

The beginning is always hard, at least that’s something which cannot be doubted. He felt a pang of guilt upon exiting the village’s fences, disobeying the rules of their host but Arthur motioned with his hand invitingly and tilted his head on the right with an annoyed expression on his face when he noticed Alfred’s hesitance. The warrior frowned and grumbled something about heroes and their respect of laws but Arthur snorted and waved dismissively at that.

“There’s no fun without breaking some rules or are you afraid of what’s beyond them? Then you should just retire to your bed chambers, wimp.”

The sky-blue eyes winced at the challenging voice. As if Arthur had stepped on his toe, the young mercenary pursed his lips and even hummed. The lights from the fences provided only dim, insufficient luminance that lit just a part of Arthur’s figure and it took a few minutes until Alfred’s eyes accustomed to the new circumstances... the forester purposefully stood half-way in the darkness, purposefully playing with the dominance of the night and leaving the upper part of his body in the gloomy shadows that cast on his figure. His hair glistened in the pale silver light of the moon, hay-blonde radiating and green eyes holding the warrior’s gaze with such confidence that restored the fire Alfred had before in his chest. If he’s gonna break the rules, he might actually have fun during that time.

Leaves, fallen branches cracked under his boots as he stepped through the bushes.

“Lead me.”

It wasn’t such a hard decision to make, after all.

Arthur lived inside the borders but he had shown him a shed on the outer side of the fences that he built himself and judging by the proud shine in his eyes, Alfred understood that it meant a lot to the blond man’s heart. The shed was only held together by the spirits that lurked around in the forest and after a closer inspect Alfred even hesitated on stepping in but then again, Arthur moved with such agility and lithe smoothness that he had to trust the unique man in his decisions.

The shed from the outside looked downright horrible.

But the inside was another world that let only the chosen people in, and the judge was Arthur himself, only him.

The smells were repulsive. Filth of animals, rotting feathers and fur and whatnot, Alfred forced his mind into blankness for a few seconds after he felt his boots _sink_ in the mud. His boots, expensive deer hide from the Northern part of Spades... he didn’t even want to think about it but actually he didn’t even have the time. The sounds and noises brought his mind into alertness, recognising the voices of animals, rustles of cages and Arthur fumbling with the matches.

Soon the shed was lit by a tiny candle that was more than possibly stolen from the colony. Alfred glanced at the stumped device of light then back at the enchanting green eyes that captured his and held it long; making him feel the same magical pull towards the wonders Arthur would show him. He had so many things to tell, to show and introduce. His voice was quiet and low and even though Alfred didn’t understand why he had to whisper, he leaned in closer to hear his new acquaintance better, “this is my place. I built it myself, all you see here is mine. Now, hold this please. Don’t drop it, I have only this one.”

So it _was_ stolen from the colony.

He handed the candle into Alfred’s hold and bent to open a cage. The noises of the animals quieted into pleasant chirping but this particular fellow now in Arthur’s gloved hands gave some nudging at the hidden fingers, sniffed around then curled up into a ball of spikes. A loving, curious smile appeared on the warrior’s lips. A hedgehog, a tiny hedgehog lay in the forester’s palms.

“He is the newest guest,” Arthur told him in such a quiet voice as if he told a story already at its end. “His foot was broken, now it’s in cast and healing. I hope he’ll be able to use it as he did before,” the wonder in Alfred’s expression grew along with the young man’s speech. His voice, so gentle and soothing still reassuring with confidence now lit a spark that he didn’t knew existed in his chest. The way the caller held the tiny creature, the trust the little animal had in him that it brought its nose out of the protection of spikes and sniffed again, black button eyes searching for the face of his saviour. “He’ll be here for a few weeks more then I’ll bring him back to the place where I found him.”

“I see.”

Arthur gently placed the hedgehog back into its cage and from one of his pockets that Alfred actually didn’t see, gave a piece of carrot to the animal before squatting down to the cage right below the hedgehog’s. He opened it and drew another captive forth, making it mewl in an emotion Alfred couldn’t identify. It could have been pain but by the lick the animal gave on the blonde’s cheek, it was obvious pleasure and affection. “Have you seen animals like him?” The Caller asked, curious green eyes looking back at the blue, “I heard they live only in this land.”

It took a few moments before the answer dawned on the mercenary. The racoon type animal, looking like a mixture of a small dog and a racoon rather, sniffed towards him and with its clawed paws, insisted on being held by Arthur and Arthur only, even when it was offered for the warrior.

“I haven’t, I suppose,” the soldier tilted his head on the right and attempted to caress the animal’s head but it hissed at him; only with Arthur’s soothing strokes on it back did it let the taller man touch its fur. The blonde continued.

“It’s a racoon dog. I can’t give you a better name.”

“Yes, it looks like a pup and a racoon together,” Alfred chuckled, voice filled with pleasure and relief when the animal looked at him and sniffed at his fingers. “What happened to him?”

“He was bitten by a snake,” Arthur sighed and bent to place the racoon back into its cage, in the meantime moving along to the next box but Alfred’s surprise caught him off guard.

“Are there poisonous snakes here? No one told us about that!”

The animals in the shed awoke and chirped loud in their anxiety which caused the blonde frown in anger and catch the soldier’s wrist in a tight, blood-draining grip, “be quiet you lout!”

“But that was not in the agreement we signed!” The man lifted his wrist along with his retort without an effort which made Arthur frown and hiss back in return.

“It doesn’t have fatal poison, not fatal for humans at least!” The forester rolled his eyes but nearly spat his frustrated words, resentful for the disturbance Alfred caused. Upon the dawn of comprehension, the young man nodded upwards and sighed when Arthur pulled his fingers away from his skin.

“Aww, why didn’t you start with this, then? What does it do to humans?”

“Causes mild fever, nothing serious. One or two days spent in bed, but for tiny animals like Marco, it is deadly.”

The explanation calmed the warrior for a few moments before the confusion returned. He frowned, blue eyes darting from the racoon dog to the forester who now turned to the other wall and narrowed his eyes, quietly whistling that was replied by some kind of a bird’s light chirping.

“Wait, uh.. then, if it’s deadly for animals like... Marco...” the fact that the racoon dog was named didn’t settle yet in his mind. He just got along with it, for which Arthur was thankful. “Then how did he survive?”

“Use your head, potato. I took the venom.”

Alfred’s eyes widened in awe and shock, two at the same time. Took the venom, it echoed in his exhausted mind, took the venom and saved the animal... he didn’t know much ways to get poison off from an infected victim, he even shook his head since his rational way of thinking was not functioning anymore, “how? How did you?”

“I arrived just in time, I mean, he was looking for me in a way and I found him in time. I sucked it off. Even if I had slight fever that night, this little guy can soon go back home and hopefully he won’t pick up a fight with a snake again.”

Before making a disgusted face, Alfred quickly regained the control over his facial expressions only to let his thoughts settle. This guy... sucks _poison_ out of... forest _animals_. Highly dangerous job. He could get all kinds of infections... all kinds of... worms, bacteria, viruses... yet he seems to enjoy it. Seems like, he has nothing else on his mind. Weirdo, completely gone mad. Who would... ever touch a racoon dog when it’s dying and have the guts to look for the wound and suck the venom of a snake out of that? And as Alfred’s common sense suggested, that must not had been the very first time. Where did he end up? Was it this normal in this god forsaken land?

He blinked a few times before looking back at Arthur, who blinked back at him, green eyes obviously concerned about Alfred’s well-being, “are you tired?”

“A bit, indeed. It has been a long day. Many new things around, ya’ know.”

“Then maybe you should come back tomorrow evening. I leave with the dawn but I’ll be back around supper,” Alfred hummed in consideration but when his eyes noticed the man’s hand disappearing in the darkness of a cage, he frowned. The animal, a rather large bird in the cage chirped and ducked its head towards the gloved hand, he could see it even from its shadow.

“Are you... like...” he tried to point at the animal with his index finger but judging by the annoyed look he got for that, Alfred cleared his throat. “I mean, what are you doing?”

“He wants to come out, he is not used to tricks like this. Usually when I open his cage I let him fly around but it’s too dark. I wouldn’t see him but these days he’s quite attached to me for some reason” the answer confused the mercenary even though Arthur informed him in a casual, rather dreamy voice since his attention turned back to the bird. “I’ll introduce him to you tomorrow. I’ll come back before sunset.”

“Who is this that you hold now...?”

The light in the green eyes shone in pride and excitement as Arthur looked back at him, pulled his hand out and closed the cage but seemed to hesitate about the answer he was supposed to give. He glanced down and up on the piles of boxes, bit into his lip then finally, returned his gaze at the warrior.

“I can’t show you properly now. He can’t be taken out so easily, he’s stronger and has his own routine. If I don’t follow that he’d become wild and aggressive easily even though I know he loves me,” he sighed and Alfred sensed how the young animal tamer refused to provide a proper reply, he stepped aside and let Arthur exit the shed first. He blew the candle and placed it beside the door before following the forester back towards the fences.

“So...” he started, caught up with the pace of the other and intended to lure the answer out of the man. “Tomorrow...?”

“Tomorrow.”

With this brief answer, promise and hope in one, Arthur motioned with his hand for Alfred to stop and told him to wait a few moments before walking in the settlement. They were not supposed to be seen together and even though Alfred had no clue where this trouble rooted, he obeyed the strange forester, heart thumping in his chest like a kid’s before doing something incredibly exciting.

He saw Arthur walk in, the man covered his head with the hood and paced quickly away from the gateway, not even saying goodbye to his new friend which suddenly hurt the warrior with a sting of sadness. He felt like an abandoned pup, the feeling damped only when he retired to his own room and settled to sleep.

Usually, after such a busy day Alfred hadn’t had dreams... but that night, his mind flashed thousands of images and scenes through his sleep, much adventure and joy accompanying this newly found acquaintanceship. The anticipation surged with nearly forgotten excitement in his veins.

In this god-forsaken forest-land, he met something that shook him from his usual routines. This man, Arthur, a “caller”... he surprised and confused him in a good way that stirred his thirst for knowledge and wonders, to solve the mysteries and find the reason behind this forester’s person. There was something strange in his person that captured Alfred’s attention, something natural yet wild, untamed yet momentary peaceful. He had a feeling that he should not trust the hunter and still he couldn’t calm his heart and thoughts. He could not know, could not guess yet how his decisions would affect his career and the peace of the entire village.

All he knew, and that he knew with convincement, that he wanted to find out and know more of Arthur Kirkland.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beginning quote from Perfect World International G15 Lunar Nirvana forges.  
> More information about the AU will come in the later chapters. Map is being drawn by myself, will be added later with a link.


	3. Intentions

 

_Adventure is when you are heading somewhere but no one knows where you’ll end up._

Alfred didn’t know what to do with the tremendous amount of time he had all day, after learning that the Caller left at the first rays of the sun. Exercising, walking around the colony and getting familiar with his new environment were already on the list and had been done at least three times that day. He tried helping the villagers in their everyday activities and had been in a longer than expected conversation with the local blacksmith about the weapons and their needs. However, none of these lasted long. As his last hope for distraction the young warrior decided to sit in the dining hall in which at least he couldn’t check the colours of the forest that the afternoon sun painted on the autumn leaves. He couldn’t wish, beg for the time enough times to pass faster than usual.

The dining hall was furnished to function as the centre of the colony. All who had free time and wished for some social interaction gathered by the long wooden tables and had a pint of beer with them and although in the beginning their stories did give a new aspect of this land to the newcomers, soon the warrior grew tired of the rather repetitive narratives. Old stories about grand-grandfathers, sons, kids, all these he could hear wherever he went but when he asked about the story of the tribe or the environment itself the villagers just waved him off and even raised their eyebrows. Who’d want to hear such bedside tales? Weird newcomer, clearly an outsider, Alfred could see the light of distance in their eyes and in the way they glanced at each other. Apparently, he couldn’t find his place anywhere.

He got up and decided to take a walk around the settlement on the outer side of the fences, since someone had to check the benefits and disadvantages as well even though he knew the Crow and his companions had already seen what needs to be done. Hands in his pocket and a familiar melody whistled by his lips, the mercenary left the colony and watched as the sun was still sinking to melt into the horizon. Shaking his head with disapproval the young man turned to see the shed Arthur showed him yesterday night only to wince and suck on his lower lip. In the daylight it was such a saddening view that he sighed and trotted right next to the building to check if he could fix something around it. The animals sensed his closeness and judging by their quiet fidgeting the warrior knew in an instant that the captives knew Arthur’s footsteps. If it was him, he’d be greeted differently for sure.

Experiencing yet another occasion of gratitude for his travels and memories at building houses or giving a helpful hand at reconstructing buildings, the boy hummed as he placed his hands on his hips and let his eyes take the sight in. He could recall the voices of masters, architects and not so professional but just as clever people calling his attention on the signs of errors. It didn’t take much of his time to know what to do.

From the outside, Alfred’s conclusions were merely concerning the restoration of the upper parts that were meant to hold the ‘roof’ and add more support to the sidelines... other than that, he decided to step in and look around for spare materials, only to stir the momentary peace. He could almost touch the frozen, terrified looks of the residents.

The animals, judging from the smells and their voices; hedgehogs, rabbits, a fox, the raccoon dog, tiny birds and a squirrel were locked in cages which were bedded with hay and moss. Supposedly all of this was Arthur’s own tinkering from the stolen or hoarded everything he could sneak from the village. Two or three cases were made from baskets, others from worn out clothing and leather which was not only comfortable for the tiny creatures they hosted but kept their warmth on a decent level during the night. Now the whole sight became much clearer. The hedgehog was also placed in one of these waterproof leather-sacks, his bed was made from the mixture of hay and moss and as Alfred bent a little to check the other cages, he could see different, varying types of nests that were made purposefully by the Caller. The raccoon dog was on the lowest level, its cage was covered with a worn and mostly ragged pelt just like the one that functioned as cushion for the recovering animal. The fox had its forelegs and head bandaged; it could only see with one eye but nevertheless its nose and one functioning ear perked in curiosity, black button eyes watching the dark-blonde human.

The tiny birds... it left the warrior’s mouth open in awe and in a heart-warming disbelief how someone, _Arthur_ could be so caring for such little animals. Each and every bird had its own nest, designed and made from the exact materials the injured chirping creatures would make on their own. At least ten of them in one cage...

And then, the big cage.

It was bigger than the raccoon dog’s cage and from his memory Alfred could recall that it was a bird, residing in that particular place. He didn’t know animals that well but from the bedding, the filth of half-digested mice and tiny white feathers his immediate suspicion was an owl-like carnivore. It couldn’t be bigger than a chicken. More than that, he couldn’t deduct.

He found an old bucket full of water next to the door at the edge, and as he glanced up his suspicion was proved: the Caller had no idea how to build channels for the rainwater so he tried to collect it from the place it streamed down to the earth the most. Again, Alfred had to shake his head at this in disapproval, wondering why Arthur didn’t get any help from the village. No one noticed this struggle, this obvious strive to provide for these forest creatures...? he felt a pang of ache in his chest when his memories reminded him of Arthur’s behaviour in the dining hall and then the last time they exchanged thoughts. Arthur told him, they shouldn’t be seen together.

But Alfred didn’t want to hear the villagers’ opinion about this forester. Enough times it happened in his life already that just by following the common judgement about a stranger he missed an incredibly good person’s friendship or worse, he couldn’t draw the differences between the community’s view and the person’s view of his own self and the confusion slowly erased all connection they had. He only had this shed as a base for his own impressions and from what he saw he could tell how hard Arthur worked from the small materials and knowledge he had, still he managed to make it work. Wonderful.

So, he began to work as well. First he fixed the roof where it leaked, covered it with branches, leaves and moss on the base of it so it would function as a sponge; later he’d also snatch a log or two out from the village to repair it properly. Now, with the growing awareness of being absent from the colony he knew his time was limited but there was also the spark of his will to help, to do as much as he could in that short period he still had. He stuffed the base of the “building” with stones as support, moss, leaves and heavier pieces of wood to isolate the warmth of the animals that lived at the level of the ground. He could see the earlier attempts but Arthur stuffed way too much moss and only a weak layer of leaves that was not enough to protect this sensitive type of moss from the wind and ice... they’d need to snatch hay from the barn of horses to have it more stabile. The back of the shed had to be supported both from the inside and the outside. After seeing the way Arthur had practically trimmed the logs together, hammering nails here and there only to hold them in position but not to actually hold the construction, the warrior sighed and pursed his lips while his hand scratched the nape of his neck in concentration. That, along with the roof will be the hardest part. For safety, he should move a few cages...

Chirping interrupted his thoughts. The bird, Alfred recognised the voice of it, a predator in the calm state of its being now watched him from behind, from a few feet. His senses, mostly his hearing perked at the smallest shift on the leaves and the warrior turned on his heels and with his right hand grasped on his safety-blade, ready to pull it forth. His assumptions that the bird was not alone were confirmed.

In the same worn cloak like yesterday, muddy, filthy brown leather boots and with the glare of the carnivore bird sitting on his right forearm, Arthur stood with his fists so tight the blood was drained from them. He’d seen intruders at his poor cabin way too many times to believe someone would come with innocent intentions.

“What are you doing here?” His voice stung with worry and nervousness, Alfred raised his eyebrows in surprise and even lifted his hands as if that would prove his innocence.

“I was checking this place that maybe I could help you around it. I fixed a little of...”

“I don’t need your pity! Get away from here, I can see it myself without you mocking me about it!”

“I’m not mocking you, hey?” That was uncalled for, again... the young man frowned and only sighed when Arthur paced beside him to see his precious cabin, the falcon shifting nervously on his right forearm, still measuring the newcomer with the greedy, yellow eyes it possessed. Just the gaze of it sent a shiver down Alfred’s spine, only to call his mind back to the present.

“What have you done here?” Arthur frowned and snapped at him again, not quite trusting the warrior at all while he could see himself as well that Alfred’s deeds were only done with good will and with professionalism. “Up there, Mint,” he instructed the falcon which flew up to sit on the roof of the shed, stirring his fellows inside, the interaction of them being watched in awe by the tall man.

The forester shook his head and chew on his lower lip as his eyes examined the changes Alfred did to the building. For sure, it looked a bit safer for the rainy autumn days... but mind couldn’t digest it. The reason behind it, or rather, the lack of it.

“You shouldn’t have done this. You shouldn’t be here at all you fool,” he emphasized, an emotion surging in his eyes that Alfred couldn’t interpret, yet again the forester bit into his own lips before looking directly at him. “Please don’t come here. I know it looks horrible but you’ll only cause trouble for yourself if you continue being in my company.”

He didn’t believe this at all, after all he’d seen Alfred hummed and shrugged at this half-hearted and obviously forced statement; judging from the way Arthur looked down on the ground and tightened his grips on the fabric of his cloak. Arthur didn’t want to say this actually, Alfred felt a heavy knot in his chest just by looking at the other and experiencing a strange pull towards the man, to comfort him as best as he could. Instead, he chose another strategy.

“They told me the same,” green eyes darted at him cautiously, expecting more of the usual shaming and belittling descriptions he received but Alfred continued, “the White Crow’s company is highly dangerous, their morals and intentions are always doubted and look... they took me along, taught me and raised me into who I am now. I wandered the four kingdoms and I was beyond the borders as well, too. After these years the only thing I can tell you is that when you’re told not to be around someone you don’t even know yet, you should just do the opposite and see for yourself who they are.“

The hesitation in the green only grew. He looked up at his newfound friend then glanced down at the ground in shame or shyness, Alfred could see how the tension eased from the forester’s shoulders and pale fingers. Arthur pursed his lips then drew a long breath between his lips before humming, all these to linger on the moment while he had company to grasp onto. His heart swelled in his ribcage tightly, the blonde found himself speechless yet with a tremendous amount of thoughts on his mind at the same time. Perplexed at his loss of words, the mercenary chuckled and scratched the nape of his neck again, “hey, amm... we should get more hay from the barn. It could isolate the cold better than moss. Also, for the roof I could snatch a few panels of wood too.”

“But..”

“Just tell me one thing,” Alfred stepped closer, now completely behind the shed thus hidden from the gate of the settlement. Arthur looked up at him, his figure only an inch or two smaller but Alfred knew, felt it in his bones from the way Arthur looked at him that the man anticipated his word more than ever. “Who are you? How did you learn all these, about the animals? How did you tame the falcon to be around you without its cap on the head?”

“Aam...” again speechless in the sudden raid of questions the forester felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. His mind raged against the moment: he couldn’t mess this up, his only chance at making a friendship!

“Sorry, I didn’t want to scare ya’,” the other waved dismissively and glanced up at the falcon with wonder shining in his sky-blue eyes. The bird tilted its head to have a better angle at looking at the stranger, it chirped and began bending towards its master, almost asking for his forearm to sit back on.

“I, uh, I don’t know much about the animals, I know how they live and mostly I try to help them based on what I saw. I know their habits and... “ Arthur shrugged, knowing that what he knew and did didn’t actually matter to anyone else, he even shook his head a little and made a face as he tried to cut the conversation short. “I help them because they help us as well... though not many seem to realize this.”

“I don’t know much about the forest, myself, “the soldier admitted which called the other’s attention again.  Green eyes followed how the young man shrugged and sighed, gaze lost among the trees from the direction of Arthur’s arrival. Such sincerity and confidence in one action, Arthur quickly dragged himself out of this wonder at the other man in order to listen what he had to tell, “I mean, for us in our profession it can mean two things only, shelter or ambush. The shelter is momentary and very deceptive, the ambush speaks for itself. In one minute you’re just riding your horse although your senses are like... the antennas of the bugs“ he chuckled and even though it seemed rather childish to do, he lifted his hands to demonstrate his metaphor, “you know that each bush and tree can mean sudden death. Forests are... on the one hand, chance to survive, on the other hand unpredictably dangerous. I never really stopped by to watch the animals or the plants it can have, you know, that’s why I’d like to know what you’re doing and how you did learn all these. Seems like nothing really happens in this place ever, you are the most interesting person of all here, at least you’re actually doing something reasonable and unique...”

At that, Arthur’s eyes narrowed in venomous disbelief and he stepped back, asking his falcon to return to his arm. Alfred turned to look at him with the friendly smile he always had around Arthur on his lips but at this suddenly repulsed reaction the warm feeling melted from his cheeks in an instant. The green eyes glared at him with anger and piercing power, the one that gripped Alfred’s heart and body as one, breath caught in his throat from seeing such strength. The falcon chirped, looked at him and back at Arthur before adjusting its hold with the talons.

“Who sent you?”

The question puzzled the mercenary even more. His eyes opened wider in his surprise, “no one.”

“No. Don’t lie to me.”

“Are you implying that...”

“What you are saying is making me sick to my guts. You’re repulsing to me.”

Immediately the warrior asked if he’d hurt the forester in any ways possible but the man isolated himself enough just by calling the falcon’s name in a way that it turned to raise its wings threateningly at the stranger, “what you are saying repulses me, none of these is true and I know exactly who told you to say these! Get out of my sight you... hypocrite!”

He even stepped closer to push Alfred away, the bird flying to sit on the roof the shed again. His efforts at pushing the warrior out his balance were insufficient; a person who’d been trained to stay in balance at all costs dodged these weak, half-hearted attempts with ease. As predicted, Alfred took Arthur’s wrists in a firm hold and held him right in front of himself, surprising the attacker in a quite closed-up situation.  The green glared daggers, thunders; poison streaming from them into Alfred’s gaze which was rather confused, not quite understanding the reason behind this manner Arthur used.

His calm attire unmoved, the warrior hummed and talked with such harmonious peace that made the smaller blonde’s insides twist and ease at the same time.

“First of all, calling me a liar won’t get you anywhere. I couldn’t have a decent conversation with any of the villagers yet and it seems and I don’t have any intention of having one anymore. Just think about it for a second, “he narrowed his eyes as he began. “You say we shouldn’t be seen together and now I see clearly because it’d ruin my prestige. Without missing a beat you suspect that just because I’m here, I had done harm to your building and then tell me that someone _sent me_ to say things that would hurt you. I have quite the image about the residents in those houses right now. They hurt you, damage your work...?”

 His eyes, the sky-blue now solid as the rocks they stood on gripped the blonde’s soul so tight he couldn’t bear the other’s sight anymore. Glancing down and his own grip weakening, Arthur nodded but immediately began the explanation as well.

“But I deserve it. I never really belonged here, I’m a Caller, they call me that because I can communicate with the spirits of the forest and I see them and I never really belonged here... we shouldn’t be seen together for you still have to spend a lot of time with them and have to defend them when the time comes! The vandals don’t even come near to me because they know I don’t belong fully to the world of humans, I’m not in danger but these people are and they know I can talk to the spirits and all creatures, and I know the origins and legends of this place that they don’t and they know I’ve been told by the spirits, not actual humans so my knowledge is beyond their, yet they can’t see anything when they look at my work they only see that I’m not good in communicating with humans that’s all... I’m... I’m not any good for you either, I can tell you...”

“Really?”

The question and tone he used, short yet telling a lot of the warrior's opinion puzzled the young outcast. Hazy, unfocused eyes found their safe harbour by being anchored in the breath taking, light blue spark of the clear spring sky in front of him.

Alfred had an idea in mind.

“From what I’ve heard... you’re similar to the shamans of the South. The very, very far, deep South... and yet you’re not trained to be one... man...” in wonder, the young warrior released his hold on the other’s wrists to let him loosen up a bit again and meanwhile, collect his thoughts as well. “You’re incredible. Without training, only with being oppressed...? That’s...”

His breaths were deeper than usual, his cow-hide chest armour rose and sank fast in front of Arthur who couldn’t follow the conversation anymore. He’d been compared. He’s similar... there are other people out there who were like him...? Training... training to talk with spirits and care about the animals better... his mind couldn’t perceive this possibility.

“I met a shaman who had fifteen years of training only to see the spirits and you’re here, talking to them and seeing them at the same time,” Alfred explained, eyes sparkling with excitement, “and they also see you, talk to you... tell you stories and tales, right?”

“Umh,” the blonde bit into his lower lip before nodding, “yes, right. They lead me sometimes to places as well.”

“Amazing.”

“No, I’m not,” he stated with a scowl.

“You tamed a falcon,” Alfred raised an eyebrow at the reaction he got and the immediately rejecting response.

“He was small when I found him.”

“You built this whole on your own.”

“A ten years old can build better than this.”

“You are still doing it no matter what people tell you.”

“I have no other choice!”

“Exactly!”

“No, you don’t get it!”

“You don’t get it. Stop, stop for a moment!”

“Stop fooling around and see what I’m doing for real! I’m around animals all the time and I don’t know how to handle humans around my own self, stop fooling me with this friendly attire of yours!”

“Can’t you just stop repeating the same nonsense over again, I’m trying to convey a message but it’s like talking to a brick wall! Just don’t think about it for a second, I’m here and let’s concentrate on this only, alright, nothing else, just this. I’m here and I want to ask if you could tell me what you are doing with the falcon in the forest every day?”

“Weren’t you been listening..? I’m wandering around, seeing what good I can do to these creatures, I’m listening to the forest and just... just, not being _here_ , anything is better than being here. Stop buggering me, at last, now you know more than you should, it’s ridiculous.”

“You know what’s ridiculous?” Alfred already smiled, _smiled_ , and it infuriated the blonde how easily this man could step over his insults and attempts to scare him away, he smiled and leaned in closer, so close he could see Arthur’s freckles. The moment took his words and the forester only babbled something about intimidating the private sphere but even that the warrior brushed aside. “That you’re still not telling me how I could do some help here.”

. . .

“Let me do it,” he snatched the hand away and reached to fix the broken lock of the door with trained, stabile hands. One harsh pull and the lock shattered, leaving Arthur once again gaping with anger but a moment later understanding the man since from the remains of the lock Alfred made a new type of device that functioned like a safety-lock from the outside. They hid it under the roof with the thick layer of leaves they collected. Now, for a little time at least, the shed was safe from the foxes, ferrets and other carnivores that could sneak in.

“Thank you for helping.”

“Don’t even mention it,” the man stood and brushed the dust off his leather trousers before looking back at the other. “Do you know good stories?”

“I know a few.”

“Well then... tell me some.”

For once, Arthur looked at another person with clear, open surprise from which the doubt and suspicion was absent. He watched the man standing beside him with the usual anticipation he had, and Arthur sighed before clearing his voice.

“Well, I know a good one. It’s about the creation of the elements from the views of this region.”

“Alright.”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t I promise,” the dark-blonde pursed his lips at the sight of Arthur’s narrowed eyes. “Pinky-promise.”

At that, the forester frowned and hesitantly lifted his hand to entwine their pinkies, in his embarrassment he barely held the other’s gaze, “alright, then.” How childish still reassuring, just like the grown-up, muscular and tall man in front of him.

“I won’t laugh at your stories Arthur, if I’d laugh you have the right to slap me or kick me. Is that good?”

“Yes, it’s good.”

Alfred chuckled and turned to continue his repair on the backside of the shed. A sigh of relief left his lips when Arthur began the legend and as time flew by he leant to the wall of the cabin, arms folded and voice calming into a gentle tone. Alfred was soon lost in the petty, insignificant work he was doing just to spend more time with the Caller, found himself enjoying the presence of the other and anticipating to understand the end of the myth.

The creation of the elements, the spirits and physical creatures were similar to other stories he’d heard during his journeys but he never met anyone before who could interpret the metaphors of the other worlds so well. And Arthur didn’t receive any training to know the signs and their meanings; it must had been the terrible amount of time he spent on his own in the forests. He confessed it before... he knew all these from _listening_.

“...and from his teardrops the lakes surged but the life only began after he released his last breath.”

Slowly, carefully not to draw the attention of the forester Alfred put the stick he had in his hand and let his knees down on the ground, only to watch the other man’s features and take his voice and sight into his memory. Being lost in his story, Arthur used the accent of his home which differed from all dialects and accents Alfred had heard before. Once again he found himself anchored to the strange young man, to his presence and the air he carried around himself.

“The spirits, fairies and other kinds of the forest in my opinion, are from a different way of creation. They chose the people whom they want to show themselves yet I know spirits who barely talk and ones that just keep babbling about whatever comes to their minds. I also know that there are ones which wander, ones that appear on specific times during the year and ones that are actually residing there. I haven’t asked their origins yet for sometimes I’m afraid of them myself.”

“Of the fairies?”

Arthur’s eyes reflected his disbelief over the other’s lack of knowledge. Alfred merely shrugged, “why, are there bad fairies out there? I heard about the nice ones only.”

“You have a long way to catch up,” the blonde nodded, green eyes smiling weakly at the reply he got since Alfred nodded in agreement and pulled him down to sit in the soft mixture of fallen leaves and moss.

“We better start now then. Tell me what you want me to know.”

. . .

Alfred truly didn’t care about the villagers. When they returned for dinner and as the warrior went to sit with his fellows Arthur could see how the residents looked at the young man; disbelief, repulsion bubbling in their chests and erupting in their glares. Alfred informed his friends about how they should extend the defence on the Southern side and build a watchtower only to see the Northern gate, leaving Arthur in relief and safety to know he wasn’t blabbering to everyone about their time spent together.

What he didn’t know was that Alfred asked the Crow if he could accompany the Caller on his forest routes. The white haired mercenary hummed at that, winked and later that night announced it as a fact to the Elder of the village, reasoning that the Caller is another citizen of the settlement, regardless of his prestige and reputation among the residents. The young hero couldn’t get enough sleep that night, his mind restlessly keeping him awake to linger and analyse all Arthur had told him about the spirits and other magical entities of the region. The legend of creation, the old god and his remains, Alfred couldn’t imagine how many other stories Arthur’s lonesome mind stored... but he wanted to hear them all. He wanted to see the homes of the fairies, he wanted to be by Arthur’s side and see the secrets and breathtaking sights the forest held within... he couldn’t wait to begin his adventure.

Meanwhile the Caller swore and sat with troubled thoughts on his mind. No distractions, he promised himself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm setting the base for this story then I'll add more drabbles. Please tell me what you think about the narration, style and all, what your impressions are! :)  
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred never liked easy jobs and now he picked one that would last for a lifetime.

On their very first day in the forest, Arthur didn’t even want to recognise Alfred’s presence. He considered him only a bother, a pest who’d first fall across the root of a tree before noticing the tree itself. Since this didn’t happen and more than that, Alfred was able to keep the pace up with him Arthur sacrificed his time and usual routine to slow down a bit and answer a few questions the warrior had, even if they began to grow in their depth.

He couldn’t miss the growing interest of the man even though he was young; under the bravado and masquerade of the mercenary hero Arthur sensed a mature person who’d seen more than enough in his short lifetime and still managed to keep his sincerity. His questions concerned Arthur’s lifestyle, habits and liked activities. His curiosity wasn’t of an immature boy’s who wanders around only for seeking adventure although after one particular question concerning Arthur’s relations towards humans (why is he preferring the company of animals and trees over people) Arthur snapped at him and Alfred understood him in an instant.

That was it. Understood him. He looked him in the eye from ten feet away and Arthur saw the realization forming a shape behind the blue eyes, no trace of concern in them. After that, the urge to have a fluent discussion faded.

And from that point it became impossible to get rid of him... although the doubt remained in his heart, Arthur could only frown at the ridiculous excuses the man used in the village to disappear.

Excuses? Lies, just to be around him.

...

The days grew longer with the trips to the woods and with the hope of balancing his training. His mentors were always holding him for more exercises and blade-practice than needed which resulted in his usual pains around his whole body. His spine, arms, shoulders and all muscles he barely knew existed ached with each move he made and knowing that they have settled into the colony, the training will be permanently scheduled for every other day. The morning couldn’t start earlier and the night couldn’t end in a reasonable time, on the top Alfred knew the entire colony was watching all of their interactions which was quite embarrassing or downright annoying at times.

They were similar to the formless figures of the forest that Arthur was talking about the other day and Alfred couldn’t imagine their existence... now, catching the eye of a young woman deeply in the observation of his exercise (holding himself up on a log in the barn of the horses until his mentor didn’t come back to him, now it’s the fourteenth minute) he frowned and bit into his upper lip. He didn’t even know the woman was there and here, she was watching him and acted so innocently it just made the warrior feel like a spider was running up on his spine.

Arthur also talked about the forest and the connections among the elements, their essences being reflected in animals, plants and humans and him being a Caller meant more than being a simple healer, as Alfred first thought.

Grimacing at the ache in his joints and bones the young man shifted a little and frowned deeper when he realized that again his wrists began their usual trembling around the seventeenth minute. He couldn’t hold himself for twenty, it was around the time for his joints to give up thus earn an evening of break... in which he could sneak away to meet the strange forester. He couldn’t wait that much, he yelled for his friend and let himself fall from the air, arriving with a thump on the ground.

Enough for today, he declared and clasped his still shaking, reddened hands onto his jeans to rub them a little. The white-haired comrade smirked with his usual knowing eyes and nodded, only adding a note Alfred heard only since they had settled in this village, “seize the day, ma’ boy.”

With a suspicious look at the other warrior, Alfred chased the embarrassing thought away (maybe he knew he was leaping from the colony?) and smiled back, “first things first, food.”

“Food only as dinner, Alfred.”

This brought an exaggerated, almost theatrically resigned sigh from the young man’s lips, turning back to his friend again but still walking towards the gate of the barn, he even opened his arms in exasperation. “Come on, I haven’t eaten since the morning!”

“Then you can wait a few hours more. Next is Vash, he’s not gonna last as long as you did.”

He just waved at him dismissively. No food for at least three hours, why, he grimaced again like an elementary schoolboy he was in his mind these times... Gilbert couldn’t understand, food was the only distraction (beside Llamrei) that could tie the young soldier’s attention long enough until Arthur arrived back to the settlement. Without his new acquaintance the bright-eyed man felt a bit lost among these people... passing by and glancing on him, strengthening the notion of himself as being an outsider to their community yet their interest was unmistakable. It just sent shivers down the man’s spine if he thought that even during his dining these people were secretly watching him. His armour, his blades, his looks... he needed to change this behaviour of the “natives” somehow.

The only person actually talking to him as a partner and companion was Arthur, who himself seemed to be an outcast of the community. His mind couldn’t stop whirling around the forester...

and it wasn’t soon enough that he discovered, he didn’t have to restrain himself from accompanying the man.

. . .

The new form of life brought the change into Alfred’s life which he had previously thought to be the sentiments of poets and bored-minded artists. Starting with the very environment; he had to re-consider his options about his lifestyle and daily routines, not to mention the new ways he had learnt under the guidance of the village.

The smells, the cold, the moisture in the air and the ground made it impossible to wear the usual equipment and clothing they had, nevertheless Alfred did try his best to look neat. He gave up after a week of scrubbing mud off his boots and trousers and remained without steel armour, only wearing hide protection. His enthusiasm seemed to return which surprised all his companions and since his new friend Arthur left the settlement in the early mornings only to arrive late in the night when mostly all residents were already back in their cottages, no one could guess the exact reason of his suddenly growing interest in the colony’s lifestyle.

He sneaked out, pretended to slow down then lurked away, simply left in silence or just put on an act of exhaustion or found a sudden business to be done. Then, praying to the Lord to keep him under cover he exited the settlement.

At the previously agreed time and place, the mysterious villager was already waiting for him.

By Arthur’s side he wandered the nearby forests which opened his eyes to such miracles he previously thought troublesome or pointless. Before this adventure he thought about the forest as deceptive entity without particular benefit for his own self or his kind, the warriors. It was a dangerous, hideous and mysterious place he barely crossed, only when he had no other choice. Now, accompanying and wandering with Arthur it filled his soul with calmness and anticipation for new and newer sparks of miracles, opening a strange kind of curiosity he seldom felt before. There, deep down in the heart of the forest, at the roots of high hills and creeks he could let his mind and soul free. There, away from the expectations and constant need of proving his worthiness and bravery, Alfred could breathe again.

If some day he wanted to meet his fate, now he had it in his palms. The endlessness of nature, the harmony and peace, the quiet yet surging roar of life enveloped him from beneath his feet up in the air, so high that his eyes couldn’t bear the distance. Above the trees, leaves, the wings of falcons with their scream shattering through the sky, Alfred smiled and shut his eyes to live through the moment. One moment, followed by several, countless others. Rabbits, foxes, racoons, squirrels, birds, bugs... they all surrounded him in the maze of the forest and although he couldn’t see them he knew, felt their presence.

They answered the Caller.

. . .

For one week he had accompanied the blonde but never actually understood his exact occupation. Wandering on paths his eyes noticed only by following Arthur’s steps, the mercenary found himself gazing in awe at the sights of hills, creeks and at the giant ancient rocks patching dark spots on the scenery. He didn’t perceive the same noises and signs as Arthur; he needed to be taught about them but for his enthusiasm driven by genuine curiosity and the will to follow Arthur wherever their ways would lead, he himself insisted on the lessons.

These included the basic and advanced knowledge about herbs, roots and the potions one could make from them. The vast amount of information the forester had in that rather thick skull of his, impressed the warrior; Arthur knew all kinds of plants that grew in his forest, all of the mushrooms, types of moss and of course, the bugs included. Like a true medic from the South, only living in the North, Arthur could identify hundreds of leaves and choose the right kinds to cure multiple illnesses at the same time.

The lessons were repetitive and monotonous with a large layer of ambiguity for Alfred failed to read Arthur’s moods more than enough time to know, he ought to memorize all shapes and effects of the herb of example... in case he didn’t want to earn a pitiful, infuriated look that told everything what was roaming in Arthur’s mind.

The blonde rolled his eyes and questioned the warrior’s intelligence more than enough times for the mercenary to take the repeated, half-hearted belittling as offence to his pride.

He wanted to prove Arthur wrong. He wasn’t an empty-headed blade-tosser. Wandering through countless villages and cities, living a free life didn’t mean he was reckless.

“This?”

The dark-blonde pursed his lips and sucked on his lower lip in concentration. He had seen this plant before, oh, he did.

“Um...”

It looked like a growing, tiny pine tree yet it had a lighter shade.

“Horsetail?”

With a blink, the harshness in the poisonous green softened enough for Arthur to readjust the weight on his legs and ask again but that didn’t mean Alfred was saved from another comment about his empty head, “and what does it do?”

“Good for... pain?” That could be told of all herbs, so far... the bespectacled rolled his eyes and clicked with his tongue as he placed his hands onto his hips. He was dumb, he forgot it?

“Particularly?”

“Pa’ticcula’ly...” he faked the accent and bit into his lower lip when he sensed, _felt_ the narrowing of Arthur’s judgemental eyes. “Good for... stone in the renal, and... vesicant inflammation...”

“And for your kind?”

“Oh, yea, oedema after injuries.”

“How to apply?”

“Warm poultice if possible.”

“Not ‘if possible’, you guessed this! Poultice, or bath the injured member in the tea made of horsetail,” the blonde shook his head in disapproval while Alfred sighed and hummed.

Wasn’t it hard to get along with him? With this tone he was using right now, Arthur resembled a cruel and impatient teacher in the newbie’s mind rather than a companion.

“And remember, you can mix it easily with the type that grows in swamps. This type loves rocks and moss as its ground, the swamp type prefers softer earth.”

“Yes, sir,” he rolled his eyes again, unable to miss the degrading tone again. Arthur didn’t simply inform him about the herbs, he demanded attention with the maximum at that and the newcomer couldn’t put up with so many data mixed with compulsory details. The sights, the stories the forester knew and the simple yet peaceful surroundings were enough for the warrior.  This biting tongue, this constant reminder of being out of place...

“If you intend to come along and be around me, you should know these.”

The sudden change, both in the tone along with the entire image of Arthur grumbling something apologetically, took the warrior by surprise. Of course he knew the forester hadn’t been around people too much, his communication skills were rough and way too frank. He understood how hard Arthur wished him to memorize everything and just go, deep down in the forest and do whatever the “Caller” had to do, those spiritual things that Alfred knew nothing about... yet.

Yet again, behind the harsh tones and demands, the high expectations, Arthur knew he shouldn’t be rude with the man.

“If I would need something and personally can’t collect it, I thought you could help me out.”

On the surface of Earth, in his entire life, Alfred never had been more inspired and motivated by one single sentence. He made a progress at this person, who had an incredibly tough wall consciously built around himself. Now, he could peek through a tiny, unnoticed crack and he certainly liked what he saw. The questions and doubts vaporized and he nodded, not intending to show any signs of his uplifted moods. Not yet.

. . .

As far as he experienced, the forester was not fond of openly shown emotions. He frowned at them, turned his head away and attempted to ignore them. Alfred could tell it rooted in the very tragic notion of this lonely man, that on occasion he couldn’t decide how to react. Seriousness was one thing in a person, this was entirely different. Arthur detached himself from the scene, consciously pulled a nearly tangible barrier between himself and the surrounding world.

But the green eyes never softened like the times Alfred held an injured animal, a rabbit or the raccoon dog in his arms, exactly in the position that Arthur could observe and tend the injury the best. The tiny mammals sniffed the warrior, measured him with curiosity since only from the fact that Arthur introduced him to them, they sensed some kind of difference from the rest of the humans they’d met before.  Interestingly enough, the hedgehogs grew very fond of the traveller mercenary, the affectionate sniffing and squeals closely watched and (secretly) smiled upon by the Caller.

Alfred fit in the strange community, far better than both of them would predict...

by this, refusing to fit in the village, which he was supposed to attend and protect when the time will come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope someone is still around... *sniffing the ground* so well, I hope you'll like this! I'm curious of your thoughts, please tell me your impressions or comments!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think about it! Reviews, comments are appreciated and welcomed!


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